Cherreads

The Beauty Collector

Nostyrant
(This book is currently on hiatus!!) This is the story of a random guy transmigrating into another random guy's body in the DXD universe. You can expect this fanfic to be a typical wish-fulfillment fanfic of the overpowered MC with cheats and a gacha system that always gives him convenient things. ÷×÷×÷ The Volume 1: Here Comes Liberty! Finished 175,000+ words The volume 2: Multiverse Here We Go! High School of the Dead arc finished 70,000+ words on hiatus ÷×÷×÷ [ !!!! Fair warning before you read !!!! ] There's an 18+ (NSFW) scenes in my story. The MC will mostly clone the girls he likes with his power to add them as his lovers and subordinates since he doesn't want to bother courting the girls and "persuading" them to be in his harem. If you don't like that, then be warned. But don't worry, not every MC's girl will be a clone; some female characters will be in the MC's harem traditionally (with romance and stuff). The clones will not act like robots since I will try my best to give them a personality and individuality. MC will not simp for any girl but still will act reasonably friendly with them or lust after some of them if they are beautiful and show interest in him. MC will have children, but they will not be involved much outside of the slice-of-life chapter. Oh, also, you can ignore the bad reviews (lol) since most of the bad reviews are about their dislike of Clone or just outright nonsense since they didn't even read my story. If you want to leave a good or bad review, then don't be shy and do it, since I'm not going to delete it or get mad even if it's a bad review; I just want an honest review to improve my writing. English is not my first language; I'll definitely have some grammatical errors in my works, so forgive me. No weird kinks or depravity such as incest and NTR in this story, mostly vanilla-lewd scenes, and multiple women on MC. Also no Yuri.
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I Leash Emperors: The Dead Shout. I Smile

The dead scream for justice. They have been screaming for centuries. In my office on the 88th floor, the sound is indistinguishable from the hum of the paper shredder. I have twelve of history's most dangerous minds in my vault—Caesar, Cleopatra, Napoleon, Wu Zetian, and eight others whose names are synonymous with the word empire. I stripped them of their crowns and their divinity and left them with the only two things that survive death intact: greed, and memory. Then I put them to work. The boardroom is their new battlefield. Stocks are their arrows. Hostile takeovers are their sieges. The First Emperor runs my supply chains with the same draconian efficiency that built the Great Wall. The Queen of the Nile runs my PR division and calls it beneath her. Caesar rewrites the legal architecture of an entire financial district before breakfast and considers it a light morning. The rules are simple. The Emperor with the highest ROI earns twenty-four hours of full sensory restoration—taste, warmth, the burn of real alcohol, everything the synthetic body cannot feel. The Emperor at the bottom earns something else: a Hell Start. Reincarnation as a beggar, a eunuch, a sacrificial lamb in the next cycle. They know this. It keeps them focused. Every full moon, the tavern opens. The millions they killed in their lifetimes gather as my Jury—compressed into a medium that runs on pure hatred, sustained by a spite so concentrated it has proven, against all known physics, to be a measurable energy source. They vote. They decide which of their tormentors leads the next charge, and which of the most venomous among them earns a temporary body to return to the waking world. Wu Zetian shed her imperial robes to kneel at my feet and beg for a private review of her HR directorship. Arsinoe—murdered by her own sister two thousand years ago—spent six weeks haunting Cleopatra's servers and built a perfect weapon before she ever asked me for the body to deliver it. Cleopatra herself believes her beauty is a currency I will eventually accept. She has not yet understood that in this building, the only currency is performance. I do not need loyalty. I need sharp blades. I do not trade in mercy. I trade in ROI. They believe this is my game. They do not ask why I need to win it. Rules? I am the rule. Harem? The highest-tier spoils of a game they don't know the stakes of. Every arc is a different world. Every world is a wound that needs closing. The Emperors do not know this. They never do. Perhaps the last thing standing between their world and oblivion is a man who stopped caring about it long ago. Let the dead shout. I smile. I have to. Tags: #InfiniteFlow #DarkFantasy #HighStakesPolitics #DivineAutocracy #GrimDark #RuthlessMC #HistoricalFigures #DarkHarem Content Advisory: Heavy power dynamics, sensory manipulation, historical figures in morally compromised positions. MC is an unapologetic autocrat. No redemption arcs.
Aetherion_Vael · 2.2k Views